Apathy: The Story of Luna Lovegood
by murtagh799
Summary: One shot companion to Apathy: Love for the Broken. What happened to Luna after the war that she ended up so conveniently placed in New York? And what does Tom Riddle have to do with it?


Hello, everyone! So this is my one shot companion to Apathy: Love for the Broken and it centres around Luna's life from her time as a Prisoner of War to Hermione's death. It's a little bit on the longer side, but I hope you don't hold that against me. I got a little bit carried away but didn't want to make it more than one chapter. Enjoy! The starting is depressing. This is not DH compliant.

**Warning: Scenes of violence, suggested violence, attempted suicide, and sexual undertones. Discretion is advised. Rated 13+. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with Warner Bros. This is not written for profit. Thank you! I don't want to be dragged to court – my writing isn't even that great. **

**Apathy: The Story of Luna Lovegood **

They were back again, this time to take another one of us upstairs.

We all cowered against the wall, shivering, not wanting to be the victim of the next round of killings. Granted, we didn't actually know what they did to their victims once they went upstairs. All I knew was once they were dragged, kicking and screaming through the door, they never came back.

Only one ever had, the others told me. Others that had been trapped here before me. They told me that he had never spoken again. Not because they had damaged his vocal cords, he was perfectly capable of speaking... Perhaps he was just too afraid.

Perhaps they had cut out his tongue.

It was almost numbing, the violence. It became a sort of drone. To be fed, to be pushed around. The dirt didn't bother me as much as it bothered some of the others. I had always enjoyed lying in the grass back at home. Father had always been delighted that I had been exploring. Exploring always involved dirt...

But eventually, the dirt and dust wasn't the main concern, it was the screaming. There was always screaming piercing through the thick walls of the dungeon. The guards seemed gleeful. Perhaps evil spirits had taken control of their souls. Maybe they were just consumed with dark magic.

Or maybe they were just evil.

I watched from behind the goblin as they dragged away the poor man. He hadn't been eating his meagre meals. Perhaps he had been preparing to die as it was. Would he get his wish? Would it be painful? Would it be worth it? He didn't struggle and I thought maybe he was willing to go through it all anyways. I wasn't ready yet.

So I moved towards the back, hoping they wouldn't come back for another prisoner.

/

They brought in new prisoners today.

There was a little blonde girl, a dark haired couple, and a surly teenager. The little girl cried continuously. The couple huddled against each other in the corner with the most light, unaware that they would be the first victims if the guards got bored. No one told them. The teen did not say a word.

The wailing child grated on the others' nerves. I wondered if the guards could hear the innocent child. Was she a muggle or a witch? Did it really matter? I held her close to me and attempted to get her to stop sobbing. It didn't work.

I covered my ears and rocked with her, hoping that this would end soon. I knew it wouldn't. There was no one to save me. Father was too desperate and old. They would never let him get this far. I could perhaps just survive until the end of the war.

But then what?

/

They gave us food today. It was actually warm. Some kind of porridge with pieces of bacon. There was only enough for a few mouthfuls for everyone, and the goblin took more than his fair share, but it was more than we had seen in days.

They were celebrating something.

My stomach dropped at the concept, but then I had to hold myself together. You could not survive without feeling complete apathy all of the time. A man had whispered it to me before they had dragged him out. He had told me that I would survive. I wasn't so sure.

It didn't matter if the Death Eaters had won the war. We had porridge and bacon. It was alright that bacon was riddled with faerie dust – dust that if consumed excessively would cause insanity. It was food. I vaguely remembered my mother telling me to finish everything on my plate, even if I didn't like it. Food should not be wasted.

So I ate, made sure the little girl ate some too. Mr. Ollivander hadn't had his fair share. We all glared at the greedy goblin. He glared back.

That night, they dragged out the wife of the couple that had been brought in.

Much later in the night, the little girl began to sob again. We all covered our ears and rocked with her.

/

The Death Eaters were too busy to taunt or torture us these days. Perhaps the war effort had gotten them to be worried. Perhaps there was hope out there after all.

Not for us, of course. But maybe for...others.

I began to see red specs in my vision. I knew they were just nimble bees, making my mind fuzzy. But the voice in my head that sounded like Hermione Granger told me that it was a symptom of malnourishment and that I was slowly becoming weaker. I told Hermione to stop being so pessimistic.

She didn't talk to me again.

And suddenly, I was desperately lonely. It was very much consuming. It wracked my very bones. I had felt this loneliness before, many times before. Once when mother had died. Several times at Hogwarts, when the kids would say mean things to me as if I were too stupid to understand.

"_Delicate wallflowers only need places to bloom, my child,_" the Bloody Baron would tell me. But then he would disappear and I would be lonely once more.

Ghosts were not appropriate friends, my father told me.

I began to see them all. The ghosts of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore, Ginny and Harry and Neville and Ron. They were all faces and bodies present in front of me. And I would watch, happy that there was something that the guards could not take away from me.

But I was still not ready to go. I didn't want to be dragged up those stairs just yet. No one who went through those doors ever came back.

Three prisoners were taken away that night and their spots were filled in the next day. The remainder of us did not say anything. What was there to say?

But instead, when no one was looking, we wept.

/

Something bad had happened. We could just sense it.

There was a huge commotion above us and we could hear a stampede of feet running to and fro as well. Perhaps the Order had achieved a strike against the monsters! But I shivered at the thought, almost. If the Order had won a strike, it would be very bad for us prisoners of war. And indeed, whatever had happened had caused them to drag three of us up the stairs.

It was chaos among us, as well. We were all restless and scared. Many were convinced that they were going to kill us all off tonight. We started to argue amongst ourselves as the panic slowly grew. But we made sure not to create too much of a riot lest the guards hear us and come down to speed up the process.

The door at the top of the flight of stairs creaked open and my heart sped up. It was a death camp and I was next.

A slim hooded figure descended the stairs slowly, sporting a distinctive limp. Perhaps this Death Eater had been hurt in whatever had created the commotion. They were here to extract revenge, I just knew it. I shivered. I stood there silently in fear.

The others must have sensed it too. There was a mad scramble to remove ourselves from reaching distance of the bars. In the mad urge to save our own skins, violence ensued. I was thrown backwards as if I were weightless. My back slammed against the bars and involuntary tears sprang to my eyes...

Pain seeped through my weak body.

The Death Eater gently pushed me away from the bars and I gasped at the contact. Not because it hurt all that badly, but because it didn't. Why had they not just killed me yet? Where were the derogatory slurs? Maybe they had something worse in store for me.

When I turned around I found the Death Eater's hood had fallen. I inhaled sharply. It was Draco Malfoy. He stepped as close as he could to the bars and I took a few steps back in reaction. His eyes were mysteriously shiny as he watched us. He seemed to be thinking, just standing there rigidly and thinking.

A loud noise upstairs was followed by an angry voice yelling and Draco was snapped out of his reverie. His eyes focused on me and widened.

"Quickly, go to the back, right against the wall and _stay there," _he hissed at me. His tone clearly indicated that it was an order, not a request. I stood there, rooted to the spot, stunned that he was even talking to me. Wasn't he supposed to curse me now like the other Death Eaters? What was going on? "Hurry! There's no time," he whispered, urgently.

I felt a little hand tugging at the hem of my tattered dress, the same they had captured me in. I looked down to find the little girl gesturing to Draco. Realizing that Draco had just given me an opportunity to save myself, I began to drag the little girl with me to the back of the small prison cell.

"Wait," he called to my retreating back. I walked up to him and he gave me his heavy cloak through the bars. I took it, confused. It looked warm. Why was he helping me? "Quickly, now. Hurry."

I nearly ran but the little girl stayed, clinging to the bars. "Help us," she cried. She was sobbing again. I saw his face contort in pain and indecision. After all, he could only do so much.

"Hide yourself," he whispered to her. Her eyes welled up. "Now!"

"You haven't rallied up the scum yet, Draco?" a maniacal voice came from the top of the stairs.

Draco's eyes widened and I could tell he was scared now. He stared desperately at the girl, willing her to obey his orders. I tried to sneak up and drag the girl back into safety, but I noticed Bellatrix Lestrange had made it halfway down the stairs and I couldn't move.

"No," Draco finally replied. His voice was distinctly empty.

The crazy woman came right up to the bars and leered at us. It took her a moment to see the child clinging to the bars. "What is _this?" _she exclaimed gleefully. "Is this what's been keeping you all caught up, pet?"

Draco couldn't stare her in the eye. But she knew what was going on. Everyone knew what was going on. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to rush in and save the girl, the stupid, stupid girl, but a bony hand closed over my wrist. I turned to find Mr. Ollivander grasping it, holding me in place and shaking his head. He implored me to be quiet.

"Do you know how we deal with scum who don't stay in line, little Drakey?" Bellatrix whispered to him, harshly. Draco didn't respond. "Well, little Drakey-poo? No? I suppose I have to do all the _fun _work around here after all. _Avada Kedavera!" _

And just like that, the little blonde girl was dead. I saw a flash of pain in Draco's eyes, but it was gone before anyone else caught it. Barely imperceptible. He was a good actor. Tears sprang to my eyes again, involuntarily. But I wiped them away. I could be a good actor too.

"Round them all up and see to it that you're quick about it!" she shrieked at him on her way up the stairs.

He shackled us with a spell, invisible bonds chaining us all together. We were taken away to a different prison that night. It was more like a cellar. There were no bars, just a very securely guarded door. It was musky and damp, but the floors were not as hard.

We each quickly found a niche in which to hide ourselves. I was grateful for the cloak Draco had managed to slip me. I knew he was not evil. And if I ever made it out of here alive, I would testify for him. I felt Mr. Ollivander's hand clasp around my wrist again and we stayed like that for hours.

We were all quiet that night. There was no little girl anymore to do the sobbing. No reason to cover our ears.

/

It was all over.

You Know Who was gone, dead for sure this time they say. Harry had won the war, the Order had come out victorious, and I was somehow alive. The Daily Prophet reported that Hogwarts had been damaged – thoroughly damaged – but that there were in the process of beginning reconstruction.

The war had torn through Britain, and now Harry and the rest were helping to rebuild it. I didn't take part in this endeavour. I didn't want to even think about such a daunting task. They were brave. I had the devil holding me down, binding me to my bed, and keeping me there in fear that if I left the boundaries of my home, I would find the world unable to accept me.

My home was my new prison, and my father the traitor was my jailor.

I refused to speak to him, my father. He had sold his soul when he had betrayed Harry and the rest by calling the snatchers on him. I felt personally betrayed he would do something...so...so... _evil. _How could he? After all he knew that was going on, after all the people that were killed and tortured... how could he attempt to just hand over the saviour of the wizarding world? I could hardly bear to look at him, let alone live with him. But what could I do? I had nowhere else to go, no place to be.

So I stayed.

But this place, which I had loved at some foolish point in my life held no joy, no peace. I would wander aimlessly. At some level, my brain acknowledged it was beautiful. But I could not see it for myself. I did not feel the rush in my veins, nothing. There were vague memories of me enjoying my life here. I remembered a feeling of peace.

But there was nothing but dull, grey apathy.

I would lay in the grass, staring at the limitless blue skies just peppered with wisps of white clouds. Where was the wonder I so used to feel? I begged myself to remember how to feel, but nothing came. It was all hopeless, a useless and hopeless existence.

I prayed that I would die soon, but no one listened.

So instead, I simply wandered. Still praying, still hoping – for something, _anything, _even just a wisp of life or even death. An extreme of anything. I could not weep, for there were no tears to shed and no one to dry them should they come. I could not laugh, for there was no happiness, no peace, and no one to share it with. I could yell, but there would be no _damage, _no suffering, no pain. Only emptiness...

I held my hand to a candle one night, just to test if I were still really alive or just asleep. Still in my prison – just asleep. I felt the pain, the burn – and there was a burn later – but I felt... nothing, no inclination to move, no instinct to save myself. My father found me and yelled.

I just stared back.

But then I began to dream.

I had been barely sleeping, barely eating. When I did sleep, it was simply a loss of memory filled with darkness. I'd wake without having rested – sleep without dreaming. Eating was not a joy, not a necessity. I had survived so many months with little nourishment. I had no appetite for food anymore. It was all tasteless, anyways. So I continued the strict regimen. My father was unaware.

But one night, I slept – passed out from the exhaustion – and I _dreamed. _It was surprising. I was aware that I was asleep, aware that my mind had produced something for me. I was afraid it would be an unpleasant memory, but it would be better than nothing at all. I craved for it, and it came.

It wasn't unpleasant at all, actually. It was simply me sitting across from a beautiful man at a table that resembled the one that had been present in my mother's lab. Yes, looking around I realized that this _was _my mother's lab. I remembered it perfectly. But who was this man? I had never seen him before.

"Hello, Luna," he said, a small smile on his face. Why was he smiling at me? I simply stared blankly back at him. He waited for me to respond, but I had nothing to say. "My name is Tom Riddle," he finally continued. "I've been waiting for you."

"I don't know you."

He chuckled at my upfront behaviour. I didn't see why it was funny. "No, no you don't know me."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here to help you and ask for help in return," he said slowly, regarding me with his brilliant blue eyes. They were perfectly shaped, framed by long lashes. His hair was perfectly arranged around his perfectly proportioned head. I simply stared.

"I don't need help and I have nothing to give," I said. I stood up but collapsed back down in my chair. I had no energy. This was an odd development. This was a dream. I ought to be able to do _whatever I want._

"Clearly." His voice was sarcastic, but his expression gave nothing away. "Would you like a sandwich?" There was a plate pilled with sandwiches on the table that I hadn't noticed before. My mouth watered, but I denied the reaction of my body. I was hungry, but I shook my head no anyways. "No? What about a scone? I know these are your favourite."

My eyes widened. I could hear my stomach growl. I'm sure he heard it too, but he had the decency to not say anything. I stared at the scone in the plate in front of him, but I didn't want to touch it. I _couldn't... _

"It would be awfully rude of me to eat alone, Ms. Lovegood. Would you do me the kindness? We could split it, if you'd indulge me. You see, I'm absolutely _famished_..."

I looked up at him, and he sounded sincere. Well... if it was to help him...

"Alright," I offered.

His smile was brilliant and something told me I should be wary of this individual. But before I could make anything of it, I found that he had placed a plate in front of me with half a scone placed perfectly in the middle. I nearly tore in to it and I knew I must have been a sight. The imps must have possessed me...

I looked up to find him smiling at me. He hadn't eaten his portion and I eyed it hungrily. "Would you like mine as well? I'd much rather have a sandwich." I nodded and he pushed his plate towards me. When he had seen that I had, in fact, finished every last crumb he spoke once more. "Will you do something for me, Luna?"

I nodded.

"When you wake, have a little breakfast, won't you?"

"Okay," I said, without thinking. My mind was as empty as it had been in ages.

He smiled, took my hand in his and kissed it gently. "It was a pleasure meeting you." And with that he walked away, right through the door of my mother's lab. I walked towards the window, just in time to catch him walking up the path leading from my house. And then he was gone.

For the next six days, all I ate were scones.

/

It was an entire two weeks before I had another dream.

I wasn't sure why I had begun to crave it. It had been unexpected, almost like tasting a drug and then being denied it ever again. I had certainly tried to make myself dream, but it didn't work. I had begun to think that I had imagined it all. Suddenly, all those scones I had eaten made me feel sick. I wondered why I had given into the silly idea. I stopped eating once more, disgusted with myself.

Three days later, the moment my head touched the pillow I was once again in my mother's lab. I wondered why it was so. Why here? Why did my mind want to be here and with a boy that was too beautiful to stare at? My eyes weren't accustomed to beautiful things. It was almost painful.

But that was all I could do. I stared.

"Hello, Luna," he said, just like last time.

"Hello, Tom."

"And how are you today?" he asked smiling.

"Enraptured."

He stared at me curiously, as if expecting me to elaborate. What was there to elaborate upon, I wondered? And why could he not fill in the blanks himself and save me the time? I was _busy _after all, busy dreaming about beautiful things and old places that didn't exist anymore. It was almost relaxing.

"Enraptured with what, may I ask?" he finally asked. I nodded at him and he looked about him, as if expecting an answer to magically materialize from thin air. I began to look around too, curious. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I quite understand..."

"Oh."

He once again stared at me. I stared back. I assumed he thought we were having a staring contest, but I was honestly just staring at him to memorize the image. This was the only good thing in my life, this dream. It was too bad it was a figment of my imagination – but at the very least, not everything was a waste of time. My mind still worked.

"Would you like to...explain, perhaps?" he asked.

"You have beautiful eyes." He seemed taken aback. That was surprising. Had no one ever told him he was beautiful? That could not be possible. He would have had girls _and _boys just clinging to him everywhere he went. I wondered suddenly why he was here, with me, when he could possibly have anything in the world. Why was I so special?

"You haven't been eating," he commented, changing the subject. I shrugged. "Why is that, Luna?"

"I don't know... is there a reason to?" I was surprised that he cared at all. What was it to him if I ate or not? He gave me a look and I knew what his answer would be, if he were to give me one. I didn't care what the answer was, just pleased someone was concerned with the minor details of my existence. "Why are you here?"

He stared at me for a moment, as if anticipating something. I don't know what. Perhaps nargles had gotten into his brain to make him forget what he had been saying. He _did _look a little confused. I bet I looked disoriented. Nargles had made a nest in my brain, after all.

The binglewhips were after me.

"This isn't a dream, Luna," he finally said. "But you know this already, don't you." I shook my head no. "No? But I _know _you're aware that this is a reality." I shook my head again, no. He stared into my eyes.

"How can it be?"

"How can your damaged mind produce something like this?" he asked, gesturing around us. My heart clenched. So he had known all along. "You do not know how to dream, Luna Lovegood."

I stood up and he followed suit.

"Until we next meet, Miss." He bent slightly, grasped my hand gently, and placed a light kiss over my knuckles. "Nourish yourself."

And with that he was gone and I was no longer asleep.

"Would you like to go outside today?" Tom asked me. I shook my head and he just smiled politely at my denial. Instead, he gestured at the bench where I normally sat when I was in this world. He sat next to me and I shivered at his proximity. "Then let the sun warm you from here. You're quite pale."

I did not say anything. There was no need to. I had been seeing Tom Riddle and my mother's now non-existent lab in my sleep for nearly a month and a half now, and it was quite strange. Quite strange, indeed.

Because he had convinced me that this was not a dream, after all, but a reality of some sorts. It was not hard to believe. There were many realities, many worlds, entire alternate universes. The mind was fragile. I had been fragile. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that I had broken through to a different world – a different reality.

A reality in which beautiful people and safe places still exist.

It had taken quite a bit to get used to, but now the concept of sleep was addicting. I came here for hours and hours every night, and part of the day. My father did not comment on the amount of sleep I had. He probably wasn't aware. We did not see each other much. I think he was just glad I hadn't left him to his lonesome self yet. But this made it bearable. Yes, life was now bearable. Life had feeling in it now.

And Riddle was the nicest person I'd spent time with in a long, long time. I knew he was pretending to like me, just because he needed me to help him with a prophecy or something of the sort – but I didn't care. I basked in the one-sided friendship. He thought I didn't know about his little drama, but it really didn't matter to me. I would play the part of a tool if it gave me a purpose and a nice distraction.

That's all I'd ever been to anyone my entire life. Maybe except to my mother and Ginny Weasley. But they were both gone and I'd never see them again. But I had learned to accept my place in life. It was all about give and take.

I was going to give as much as I was going to take.

"Have you given any thought to my proposition?" he asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I didn't like when he startled me like this. He didn't seem to be aware that he had done anything, though. I ignored my racing heart. I shook my head to answer his question. "I need you to consider it, Luna," he said, pleadingly. I knew he had purposely put up such a defenceless, needy expression on his face to encourage me to do what was needed.

Yes, Tom Riddle, the most beautiful man I had ever met – even though he didn't exist in my world – needed me for something that was his life's work. At least, that is what he had told me: that it was his life's work and that he needed my help desperately.

He needed me to apply to study and train to become a special type of mind healer in _America. _America is...across an ocean. He said that I needed to do this because it was my destiny. That it was my fate to help people heal. How could I do this when I was not healed myself? He said that I would along the process.

I did not believe him.

But he insisted. He insisted to the point where I couldn't say no. To the point that I wanted to say yes just to get him to shut up so I could stare at him in peace. But then he said I would never get to see him again once I left and I simply was not ready to lose this part of my life.

No, New York City could wait a little longer for me.

/

We spent weeks doing absolutely nothing. It was fantastic, and healing in a way that I would never imagine possible. After all, who knew just a few kind words, a charming smile, and some attentiveness could go a long way into forcing yourself to forget dreadful memories... screams...intolerance...

A blonde little girl that sometimes flashed in front of my eyes.

But this was enough. It was the interim between the past and the future. It was a momentary peaceful ray of sunshine between what I knew was going to be a dark and gloomy existence. I wanted it to last forever. The way it was going, it seemed Tom Riddle was content to let it go on as well.

One day, two weeks later, he managed to convince me to go outside. It had been a sunny day – it was always sunny here – but not overbearingly so. The light was soft, there was a soft breeze, and everything was the picture of calm. I was calm as well for the first time in a long time. Not just empty, but calm.

We sat in the grass as he talked about a multitude of things. I listened, more so just to let his lilting voice soothe me than to take part in the conversation, which I was sure would be a learning experience. He had a musical voice. It was very charming. So charming, I could listen to it for years on end and not be bored of it. Who could be bored of this man?

But in my heart of hearts I knew I was only kidding myself into thinking that this was _okay. _He didn't really want _me, _he just needed for me to do things. What _I _was doing was exploiting him. And for the first time in weeks, the first time since I'd seen him in my mind, I felt bad about it. His smiling face only made it worse.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked me.

"That I have to go soon," I muttered. I didn't want to look up at him. Not because of any reaction he could have had, but because I knew it would be painful to look at for me knowing that this might be the last time I ever see him again.

"Is your father expecting you?" he asked me. I shook my head. No, my father didn't expect anything from me these days. No one did except for Riddle. I could pretty much do anything I wanted...sleep all day, eat nothing. If only Riddle were content to let it be that way too. "Then? I didn't realize you had any other demands on your time," he said, voicing my very thoughts. He had an odd habit of doing just that.

I looked up at him. I had to see the expression on his face when I told him the big news. "I think I've wasted enough of your time here. I'm going to apply for the position in America." He seemed shocked at first, his eyes widened just the right amount. And then he smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. This man was gorgeous – almost unreal. "I think if I get it, I'll have to leave immediately."

He nodded. "I expected as much. You're not a waste of my time, Luna," he sighed. "I don't get very many visitors. It can be dreary." He lay back onto the picnic blanket we were sitting on, his arms behind his head, and stared up at the sky dreamily. I imagined how life must be for him if he were perpetually alone.

"This is goodbye forever then, Tom," I whispered. I inched closer.

He eventually turned his head toward me and smiled when he realized I was closer than he had anticipated. "It has definitely been a pleasure."

"Can I kiss you?"

I didn't know what it was that compelled me to ask such a risky thing. I'd be shattered if he denied me, I knew. But I didn't want to leave here with nothing as a reminder. This would have to be enough. He seemed surprised by my question too, and I was scared that he would reject me. I stared at his beautiful blue eyes. He seemed to be contemplating it.

He nodded then, so slowly, so minutely that I thought I was imagining it at first. He didn't get up from his position on the ground. So I moved toward him, and when I bent forward to place my lips against his, his eyes fluttered shut. I took that as a good sign.

His lips were softer than the petals of a rose. I kissed him slowly, and he eventually responded back. My heart fluttered when his hand came to rest in my unruly hair, pulling my head closer to his.

Then all too soon, it was over. And when my eyes opened, I was back in my cold, empty room. All I had was a tear as a reminder of Tom Riddle.

/

**1 Year Later: **

New York City was a cruel place for a war victim. Life was too fast to breathe, the competition was higher than most could manage, and the lifestyle was unaffordable. People were rude, no one cared unless you were an easy target to take advantage of, and trying to make it _anywhere _was a useless endeavour.

But most of all it was very, very lonely.

It was a little bit too much to handle. I had spent 365 days by myself in a place alone, where no one wanted me to live or stay alive. I had to fight my way through wizarding university to even be considered. Considered like 3000 other individuals who wanted the same thing I did.

I hadn't thought I'd ever be in school again, not after Hogwarts. I had not expected to suffer animosity like this again, not after the war. But here I was all over again, suffering through things that had never mattered to me. Attempting to achieve something that was impossible all for Tom Riddle and a prophecy I did not know exist.

I lived in a damp, dark apartment with one bedroom with two other people who never talked to me unless it was to gather rent. I worked at a wizarding pub three days a week to pay the rent and whatever meagre food I wanted to consume over the week. The rest of my waking hours were spent studying and attending class.

It was a gruelling lifestyle, but I was glad I didn't even have a moment to spare. At the very least, it didn't give me any time to think. I excelled in school, got promoted at work, had people take notice of me at both locations – but still I was perpetually alone.

And Riddle hadn't been lying when he'd said I'd never see him again. I had tried countless times futilely.

I woke only to work myself to the bone each day. What else could I be doing with my life, anyways? Was there another purpose? I eventually came to the conclusion that I was meant to be alone. No one wanted me, but I still had a part to play. After all, this is all I was good for.

But still, I couldn't shake off the helpless, sorrowful feeling that plagued me every waking moment. I figured this was the next best thing to Apathy.

I flitted between both.

**Another Year Later: **

It was unmanageable now.

I felt as though I would crash at any moment. This lifestyle was clearly not for me. Life itself was not for me. I could not bear to wake up another day to go through another useless routine. I did not wish to attend another lecture, not anymore. I didn't want to breathe lest I be reminded of the ever present loneliness that permeated every cell of my weakened body.

I longed for the days where I could lounge uselessly under my father's provision. I missed Riddle's kindness.

I was drenched to my bones with depression.

I decided that night, after my classes and work shift were over, I would go home, fill my bathtub to the brim, drink a dreamless sleep potion, and sleep in the bathtub never to wake up again. It was Friday. My roommates would not be back until the early hours of the morning. They would be intoxicated and latter suffering from hangovers. They wouldn't find me until late afternoon the next day, if during the weekend at all.

It was certainly a foolproof plan. I had one vial of dreamless sleep potion, stoppered carefully, and stored with my belongings.

That day, my lab partner asked me if I wanted to go to a party he was having at his house to celebrate the end of term. I said no. He insisted.

I said I would think about it. He offered me a neon yellow flyer with what I assume was supposed to be a catchy design. It was garish at best. It had the name and address printed on it in big bold letters. I stared at it numbly. This was apparently the event of the season. I tucked it into my bag, just to be polite, and promptly forgot about it.

I made it through the rest of the day without anyone talking to me. It wasn't unusual. No one talked to me. They thought I was strange and a little touched in the head. What was so wrong with raddish earings and owl rimmed glasses anyways? I didn't care anymore. I was leaving tonight. I should have left during Hogwarts.

At work, I couldn't concentrate. I mixed orders, sometimes completely forgot about them altogether. Customers got angry. My manager was concerned about my health. The staff collectively insisted that I go home early. That was fine with me. I would never have to see their faces ever again. Never have to serve ungrateful people. Never have to step into this horrific place ever again. My hands started to shake, whether from fear or anticipation, I wasn't sure.

I made my way home slowly, contemplating whether or not I should bother having a last meal. It was only right, I supposed. It would be a tribute, a goodbye, almost. So I went to the only bakery I knew that sold scones and bought three.

I watched the traffic of New York City wash by me as I sat on a bench outside of the bakery, slowly consuming my last meal. Suddenly, I heard a loud group of male voices laughing and joking crudely amongst each other. That wasn't unusual at all. What was unusual was one of them had come to sit next to me on the bench. I instinctively scooted away from him, but he didn't seem to notice my hesitance.

"Hello," he said, clearly talking to me. My eyes widened. His cheeks were flushed. I had the impression he had been drinking. "My name is Brad. I've seen you around in classes. You're _really _hot, you know-"

But before he could continue mortifying me, a hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away from the bench. I looked up to find a disgruntled man tugging at him. He was wearing glasses, and his blonde hair was perfectly in place.

"I'm really sorry about him," he addressed me. "I hope he hasn't harassed you too much – _stay! _What did I tell you about wandering off?" He held the first boy in place and regarded me again. "Sorry, we're both really sorry."

"That's alright," I lied. He was nice enough to warrant it, and _sorry. _

"You're a drag! Just because you're my brother doesn't mean you can boss me around, you freak! I should have left you to your goddamn books!"

The second boy smacked the first upside the head, much to his indignation. I laughed at that and the second turned to smile at me. He really did have quite a nice smile. "Have a nice night. Sorry again," he said to me before leading his brother away to catch up with the rest of the group of boys.

I _would_ have a good night tonight, thanks.

When I finally made it home, if you could call this place home, the first thing I did was throw my bag to the floor and fill the bathtub. It was mesmerizing, watching the water fill knowing that it was this that would finally take my life. Not death camps, not evil mongrels. But purifying water. It was fitting. I wanted this to be the way I left. It was... in a way, dignified.

When I was satisfied, I shut the taps and sat there for a while at the edge of the tub, contemplating. Yes, this was it. I shouldn't delay it any longer. So I stripped and went to my tiny shared room. Opening my trunk, I dug through my sparse belongings to the very bottom where I had kept my last vial of dreamless sleep potion.

Only, it wasn't there.

At first I thought I was mistaken. I just hadn't looked thoroughly enough. So I removed every little item out of my trunk in search of what I so desperately needed at that moment. _But it wasn't there. _What _was _there was a note from my roommate – _Sorry, I needed this. I'll buy you a new one, remind me sometime. Alanna. _

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel. All I could feel at the moment was a slow, cooling shock where a slow deep-seated apathy had settled in my chest. But then a surge of anger flowed through me. For the first time in my life, I screamed in fury. I kicked and screamed my way to the washroom, ruthlessly kicking my defenceless bag against the toilet. I threw myself into the bath with a resounding splash, but I could not drown myself this way.

It didn't stop me from trying.

Eventually, I gave up. It was a useless endeavour. I couldn't make myself stay under water long enough. I couldn't stun myself – my hand shook too much, and my concentration wavered. Nothing was going in my favour. The fates weren't done with me, it seemed. I swore at them, but they didn't say anything back. Why would they?

And at long last, it seemed some spirit must have come to this pitiful place to calm me, because I eventually stopped crying and simply sat in the bath. I looked around at the mess I'd made and almost felt ashamed of myself.

Almost.

Then my eyes spied a sheet of damp yellow paper that was peeking out from my bag that had fallen open. Lifting my sodden self from the bath, I crawled towards it to pick it up. It was that flyer – the one my lab partner had given me for the party he was having. Tonight, wasn't it?

It was a sign. And I knew to follow a sign when I saw one.

/

When I reached the destination, I almost regretted my foolhardy decision. Who said this was a sign, anyways? It could've just been a coincidence... but I made my way through the bodies anyways. It was hot. I wish I'd thought to wear something not so warm...

Somehow, I made it into the kitchen, which was filled with drunken boys of all shapes and sizes. A few of the girls stared at my arrival. I didn't know why that bothered me. What were they expecting? I spied a door and quickly slipped through it. It was the kitchen pantry and thankfully it was empty. I sighed in relief and sank onto an empty cart. Why had I come?

The door opened, and I looked up to find four boys coming through. They shut the door behind them. I started to hyperventilate. It was time to go. I got up, but they wouldn't move out of the way. They were blocking the door. My heart pounded wildly. "Excuse me," I said tentatively, hoping I wouldn't have to draw my wand. Or worse, hoping they wouldn't take my wand from me.

"Hey, you're Luna! Remember me? Brad!" I looked up to find the boy that had come to harass me outside the bakery staring down at me, a lopsided smile plastered on his face. He was absolutely drunk. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You're really pretty, has anyone ever told you that?" He stroked my cheek but I backed away before he could continue. I saw his face fall, a little anger grow behind his eyes. "Hey, don't be like that."

I moved backwards as he stalked forward. His friends were clearly amused at my distress, they were all giggling and laughing. I was afraid at what was about to happen. I reached for my wand when my back hit a couple of shelves, indicating I had nowhere else to go, but he trapped my wrists.

"Let go of me, please."

"Why? I like you. You never talk to me. What's wrong with you? _Everyone _likes me!"

"Let...go, please. Please, let go. Please! _Please!" _My voice had risen to a loud shriek. He placed his hand over my mouth. And then it occurred to me to scream. I felt his hands start to maul me roughly and tears sprang to my eyes.

And then by some miracle, he was pulled off me and someone gently placed me onto the cart. I vaguely heard someone yell and found Brad on the floor, clutching his face. Looking up, I found his brother glaring down at him. "_What the_ _hell do you think you were doing?" _ But Brad didn't say anything. His brother shook his head in disgust and looked at his friends who were looking scared at this point. "Get this bastard out of my sight. _Now!" _he added, when none of them moved.

When they were gone, he finally looked at me again with tender eyes. He stepped closer and then hesitated, as if afraid to touch me. "Did he...hurt you?"

"I don't know..." I eventually responded. My voice was hoarse. I was numb... But I was thankful. "I... I can't move."

"May I? I am a healer." I nodded. He spent the next ten minutes examining my body for broken bones and other damage. When he found the bruises on my back from being slammed and later struggling against the shelves, he hissed. "I'm going to _kill _that filthy vermin..."

"He is your brother?"

"Step-brother," he automatically corrected. "Mother's second marriage. Useless son of a bitc- Sorry. I shouldn't swear. It's...I'm sorry."

"You apologize a lot," I said as he healed the bruises on my back. The aching went away when he was done. "You didn't do anything but help me. I'm...very thankful." He nodded and helped me up. I shivered despite the heat, which didn't escape his notice. He draped his sweater over my shoulders.

"I'm going to take you home now." I shook my head. "No? Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere," I whispered.

He pushed his way through the crowd, leading me out. When we reached the outside world, I took in great deep gulps of air. "I'm afraid you might be going into shock," he said.

I smiled for the first time in years. "No, it's just the Gangewalles. They're cluttering up my lungs, you see."

"The what?" he asked confused.

"Gangewalles. They're creatures that constrict your airway when they sense too much emotion is present..." I shrugged. I hardly believed that he cared about such things. I was glad to be out of here. He didn't need to stick around now. "I'm sorry for all the trouble. You don't have to stay now."

"Well, I want to stay," he said, dismissing the idea with a wave of hand. I could tell he was distracted by something. "Now, tell me more about these creatures. What are they called again?" I almost laughed at his enthusiasm. "Come on, please! Save me the research. Not that I don't _enjoy _research, but..."

"Okay," I said, interrupting him. I had a feeling that I had found what fate had sent me here tonight for.

"Yeah?" he said, his face lighting up in delight. "I'll buy you coffee, then, in compensation." He pushed his glasses further up his nose and smiled at me, offering me his arm. "I'm Ralph, by the way."

"Luna," I responded, with a smile. "Luna Lovegood."

/

**Many Years Later: **

When the letter came, I was surprised.

It wasn't _every _day you got to treat one of the people that had imprisoned you in their cellar for mental illnesses. Yes, Draco Malfoy had applied for psychotherapy – specifically for the most talented mind healer on the force. I had a feeling fate had something to do with this... occurrence. Yes, this was what Tom Riddle had had me work so hard for.

It had been hard in the beginning, very hard. But after Ralph had come into my life, things had just magically fallen into place. We had gotten married in just a year and life since then had been very... fulfilling.

And it had all been for this.

When he made it to my office, I felt a little nervous. But then, when he opened the door and stammered his apology, pretending to have gone to the wrong room by accident, I realized he was in a far more precarious position than I was. "Have a seat, Mr. Sebastian Dominque," I said, before he could leave. "Or do you prefer Draco Malfoy?" I smiled at his shocked expression. "Don't worry, everything is confidential, of course. I personally have no aims to out your true identity to the American people." No, fate has just sent me here to protect you.

He didn't want anything to do with me though. He thought this was _strange. _And it was strange, after all. I remembered how he had helped me during the war, how he had protected me from death. I still had his cloak stored away in an old trunk. And that spurred me to help him now. He had helped me when he could have died for it. It was my turn to help him now.

"Everyone has suffered from the war, Mr. Malfoy, some more than others. What happened to you, me, and everyone else couldn't have been helped." He turned to leave. "I can see that you are in pain, Draco. I can help ease that pain, if you're interested. I _know _you're interested – you asked for the best healer on staff."

He nodded his head and I swear I could hear him grumble something less than appropriate. It made me laugh to myself. "See you next Saturday!" I couldn't help but call out cheerfully.

/

I had developed an easy going friendship with Draco. He was a sharp mind, a quick witted adversary, and I enjoyed his presence around me. It was sad to see him go. It was even sadder to know that he had settled all his school rivalries and was now in a relationship with Hermione Granger – a friend of mine – but I couldn't meet her. It was all in the name of confidentiality.

After our sessions were completed, I was sad to see him go. But he had a life to live, and I had mine to adhere to. I figured the part the fate wanted me to play was over. I could possibly return home now, to London.

But truthfully, there wasn't anything left there for me to go to. My father had died years ago. I had gone home briefly for his funeral. I still had the deeds to the house, not willing to sell it. But Ralph and I were happy here. I had no friends back in London, not anymore if I had ever had any to begin with. I supposed I had a life here. I could live it.

Surprisingly, many years later, I was reacquainted with Hermione and Draco and I was glad that we had stayed. Fate had strange ways of playing with us.

But I knew it was to be a short re-acquaintance.

I knew it the day Hermione insisted she be left alone. I _knew _she was walking right towards her death. And I selfishly didn't want her to go. I wondered to myself if she knew of the part that fate wanted her to play. I had carried the burden, the images that Tom Riddle had shown me, for a long time in my life. I wondered if the same dreams had plagued her.

I had seen her in the clothes she now wore, dead in the street, and I wondered if there was even a reason for it.

"Are you sure you want to go out now?" I asked her carefully. "I suppose...I have a bad feeling about it." I prayed she'd understand my meaning, but she just stared at me wearily. I hoped against hope that she'd just listen.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't go," I pleaded.

"Why Luna?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea..." I was about to cry. I didn't want this friendship to be over. We had only _just _found each other again.

"I think I have to, you know?"

So she did know about what fate wanted from her. She said something else, but I didn't hear, too absorbed with the thought of her walking to her death. "You have to?" I questioned again.

"Yes, Luna. I have to." She nodded to me and smiled.

I couldn't help but hug her. I knew it was goodbye.

**A/N: So I realize the ending is a bit rushed, but it was seriously getting way too long. So what did you think? Leave me a review to let me know!**


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